Secrets and Lies (Cassie Scot)

by Amsden, Christine

  I tried a scream. It came out as a squeak, but the sound was there.

  “Shut up,” my captor said. “No one to hear you but horses anyway.”

  At the end of the row of stalls was a small tack room. The man threw me unceremoniously inside. I fell on my face, no doubt adding to my cuts and bruises. I wanted to turn. I needed to see him. But before I could, he slammed the door. A click told me he had locked it from the outside.

  I wasn’t dead yet. I found the fact comforting, despite the desperate nature of my captivity. Whatever he had planned, it hadn’t happened yet.

  I managed to climb onto hands and knees, then twisted into a sitting position. From there, I could see more of my surroundings.

  A small window, no more than a foot across, let in a glimmer of sunlight but would provide no means of escape, even if I could get my hands untied. Shelves lined one wall, a small cot and a water cooler took up another. The room was full of potential weapons – whips, spurs, horseshoes, nails, and leather working tools – but first I had to untie my hands.

  I could use this. My captor had to know I could use this, which meant he didn’t plan to keep me here very long. Either that or he put too much stock in his paralysis spell. I had to believe in the former possibility, which meant I had precious little time.

  First, I had to stand up. It took me a few tries, but finally the paralysis wore off enough to allow me to stand, unsteadily, as long as I leaned against the wall. From my new vantage point, I could just see out the tiny window. Far too small to climb through, even if I could break the thick glass. I thought of crying for help, but there wasn’t anything interesting out there, unless you counted the horses heading out to pasture.

  I almost turned away, but something made me pause to look again. I recognized the horses from the stalls. There was the brown one with the black mane and distinctive star pattern on its forehead, the ugly one with the salt and pepper coat, and the fiercely handsome black one.

  Something wasn’t right here. I needed out – now.

  Fear caused bile to rise in my throat, but I fought it down.

  How long had I been here? Long enough for Evan to know I was gone, assuming he hadn’t been taken. I had to assume that.

  Could he find me? How would he look? He’d had hair samples from his missing cousin and been unable to spot her. If the same sorcerer had me...

  Backing away from the window, I took stock of the tools in the room. There, sorted neatly on one of the shelves, were some leather working tools, including a couple of sharp-looking knives.

  My muscles were beginning to respond again. If I was free, then at least I could fight. Perhaps I could use some of these tools to break open the door. It was only made of wood, after all.

  One thing at a time, I chided myself. First, I backed up against the shelf and fumbled with a steel blade, managing to nick my finger as I unsheathed it. Ignoring the sting, I tried sliding it against the nylon rope, only to discover that it wasn’t nearly as easy to pull off as it seemed in the movies.

  Then I fumbled the blade. It nicked my hand again as it clattered to the ground.

  “Argh!” Thanks to my thick tongue, the noise sounded strange in my ears. Lowering myself to the ground, I fished for the blade again, figuring it might be easier from a sitting position anyway. As my fingers once again found the sharp steel, I wondered whether I would manage to cut off the ropes before I cut off my hands.

  Backing myself against a shelf, I rested my hands atop the flat surface in an attempt to find a better cutting angle. Then I set to work.

  I’m not sure how long I was at it, intermittently dropping the blade and nicking my fingers, when I first caught the unmistakable scent of burning wood.

  Wide eyed, I searched the walls, looking for the source of the smell. It was a few minutes before I saw the wisps of smoke coming under the tack room door.

  I screamed. By now, my tongue felt normal enough that the sound came out reasonably clearly, but it did me precisely as much good as if it hadn’t come out at all. Who would hear me?

  The rope was well frayed by now. With a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I attacked it with renewed vigor. The room grew hazy as I worked, and I knew if I didn’t get some of the saddle blankets beneath that door, I would die of smoke inhalation before I even had a chance to burn to death.

  Finally, with a satisfying rip, my left hand came free of the ropes.

  I didn’t bother to remove the dangling bit of rope from my right hand. I just grabbed several saddle blankets from a nearby shelf and shoved them madly under the door, giving me a temporary reprieve while I considered my next move.

  The room was already swimming in smoke, making my eyes water. Keeping my face low to the ground, I made my way to a water jug by the cot. Not seeing anything better to use, I stripped off my t-shirt to dampen it in the liquid. Then I pressed the wet t-shirt firmly over my nose and mouth.

  For a few seconds, I lay on the ground, just breathing in and out. Something sharp was poking me in the side. After a minute of groping around, I realized it was something in my pocket. My eyes widened with new hope as I remembered the tiny crystal Evan had given me the day before. The crystal, specifically attuned to draw Evan toward it, would not be masked by a concealment spell.

  I drew it out and clasped it in my hand, willing Evan to find me. It felt warm in my hand, but everything was beginning to feel pretty warm, so that didn’t mean much. I wasn’t sure how long I was supposed to hold it in my fist, but I didn’t just want to lie there and pray for rescue. So, still holding the crystal in one bloodied hand, I got to my knees and tried to work out my own escape route.

  The first thing to do was to figure out where the fire was. I didn’t want to break down the door if the fire was right on the other side. Crawling in that direction, I slowly extended my hand toward the wooden surface of the door – and instantly drew it back.

  There was no escape that way. I needed to go through a wall. The outside wall – the one with the window – would be the best option, but there were heavy shelves lining that wall. So I repeated my test with the other two walls. One was as hot as the door, but thankfully, the other was not.

  There was my exit, if I could find some way to hack through it with a mallet.

  That’s when the saddle blankets under the door began to burn.

  With a strangled cry, I grabbed the small cooler from the corner and sprayed the blankets with water. It did no good. There was far too much heat and far too little water.

  Flames now filled the room, along with the smoke. It was incredibly hot, like an oven. The metal doorknob was beginning to glow.

  With tears stinging my eyes I dropped the crystal back in my pocket, picked up the mallet, and swung it with all my strength at the wall. It landed with a satisfying thunk, but only managed to inflict a small dent in the heavy wood.

  Trying not to feel discouraged, I repeated the exercise. Again and again I swung, throwing all my weight into the movement.

  I couldn’t take a full breath. My lungs burned. Tears filled my eyes so I could scarcely see.

  Reaching down to pick up my shirt, I draped it over my head and swung again. Finally, I managed to beat a chunk out of the wall.

  The flames licked my heels. If I got out of this alive, I would need to take a bath in Nicolas’s burn ointment, but I tried not to think about that as I swung again and again.

  My swings were getting weaker. I couldn’t breathe. Racking coughs had claimed my body and the hole in the wall was still too small.

  Sinking to my knees, I struggled to hold on to consciousness, but I was no longer sure if I should. My hands and knees against the floorboards were pure agony. Blackness could only hurt less.

  Then, suddenly, the wall behind me exploded outward. Wind gusted around me, dragging away the smoke and replacing it with sweet oxygen. The next thing I knew, my body was flying along with the wind and the wall, finally landing in cool grass at Evan’s feet.

 
; “You again?” I said weakly. Or maybe I just thought it. Then I fell into a fit of coughing.

  “You’ll be okay,” Evan said, kneeling by my side.

  I didn’t feel as sure about that, but then another voice intruded. This one both angry and familiar. Dad. Or he who had once been Dad. “Get out of the way!”

  He strode purposefully toward me, Nicolas right on his heels. To my surprise, Evan didn’t argue with the command. He simply backed away, and let my family tend to my wounds.

  Nicolas had the burn ointment out in a thrice, rubbing it first into my hands, then into my knees. The tingling sensation told me it was working, though the cessation of pain was not nearly as complete or as instantaneous as usual. My dad, meanwhile, chanted some all-purpose healing spell to help clear my lungs of smoke.

  All was quiet for a few minutes as the two men worked. When they finished, I still felt awful, but suspected I would live. It would have been nice to have Juliana’s healing gift just then, but I remembered Nicolas saying it wasn’t working properly.

  “You’ll be all right,” Nicolas said. “You’re stable, at least. There are more potions I can mix up, and more ointment at home. I ran out before I got to all your burns.”

  I sat up, every move causing fresh waves of pain to surge through my body, but I had to see what was going on. Evan had told me he planned to get his father and Scott Lee for backup, so what on earth were my father and brother doing there?

  Then I saw the other two. Victor Blackwood stood by his son a few yards away, glaring at my father with undisguised hatred shining in his eyes. Scott Lee stood away from both groups, looking between them as if thinking he might need to referee. It had to be a bad sign that the werewolf might be the voice of reason.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked weakly.

  It was my brother who answered. “Evan called us for help after he lost you.”

  Behind my brother, I could see the smoldering ruins of the stables. Nearby, in the pasture just beyond the ruin, horses screamed and whinnied. The remnants of the search parties, including counselors, neighbors, and deputies, stood at a distance, gawking at the fire. I don’t think they had seen my rescue.

  In the distance, I heard the scream of a fire truck.

  “I wouldn’t have put it quite like that,” Evan said. “It was just clear that we needed as much help as we could get, and since both of our families had an interest–”

  “You had no intention of calling us before Cassandra went missing,” Dad said, his eyes never wavering from Victor for a second.

  “If it had been up to me,” Victor said, “I still wouldn’t have called you.”

  “You stay away from my daughter.” Sparks shot from my father’s fingertips, something I far more commonly saw from Nicolas than from him.

  “Oh, is she your daughter now?” Victor asked.

  “Dad,” Evan said, “it’s not the time for this.”

  “You stay away from my daughter, too.” Edward spoke to Evan, though he kept his eyes on Victor. “You nearly got her killed today.”

  “I don’t suppose you can stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I asked, but my voice was so weak, I’m pretty sure only Scott, with his heightened senses, heard me. He flashed a smile my way, showing teeth that reminded me strongly of a canine’s.

  “She was with you the week after I... after...” Dad didn’t seem to know how to finish.

  “Disowned her?” Evan supplied. “Yes, she was with me. In case you hadn’t heard, she’s mine now.”

  I felt a chill run down my spine that had nothing to do with the fever I suspected I was developing. It was true, but he hadn’t said it in those words. At least, not in front of me.

  “What do you mean?” Dad asked.

  “I saved her life,” Evan said. “Didn’t she tell you?”

  Dad looked at me, helplessly. “No, she didn’t. But...” He looked back at Evan, and then at Victor. The latter flashed a smile that made my skin crawl.

  “I’ll get you away from him,” Dad said.

  “Who says I want to go?” The words were still soft and weak, but this time, everyone heard. Dad’s mouth fell open, Evan snapped his head around, his expression unreadable, and Nicolas looked ready to collapse.

  “Cassandra,” Dad said, “you have no idea what you’re saying.”

  Probably not. But my words at that point had nothing to do with Evan, and everything to do with wanting to hurt the man who had hurt me.

  Victor laughed.

  Dad whirled on his arch-nemesis. “What lies have you and your son told her?”

  I groaned, and tried to sit up, coughing furiously as I did. Evan rushed to my side, and urged me back down, though when his fingertips brushed my forehead, he shot a worried look at Nicolas. “She’s burning up.”

  “We need to get her home,” Nicolas said.

  “Evan, I’m beginning to think it’s not safe here.” This was from Scott, who was busily backing away from the two powerfully angry sorcerers.

  Apparently, Evan didn’t have to be told twice. Scooping me in his arms, and jostling me painfully, he ran for his car. We arrived just as the first spell flew, shaking the earth in its intensity.

  I never knew who threw it. Seconds later, I was buckled into the passenger seat. Scott and Nicolas dove into the backseat, and Evan drove us away from the battle.

  13

  EVAN DROVE ME BACK TO HIS house, where he and Nicolas spent several hours working healing spells and brewing potions. Nicolas ran out of his special burn ointment, which, unfortunately, took three days to make, but by dinnertime I looked and felt more like I had suffered a bad sunburn than like I had almost been burned alive.

  Nicolas and Evan didn’t argue all afternoon, although they didn’t speak much, either. At least, not in my presence. Both seemed intent on a common purpose, and also, oddly subdued. As time wore on, I began to feel like they were keeping something from me. Finally, I had to ask.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Evan and Nicolas glanced at one another, Nicolas nodding for Evan to speak, although Evan didn’t look honored by the deference. “They found the bodies of two girls in the stables. They think they were Regina and Laura.”

  “They think?” I latched onto the tiny ray of hope.

  “They’re still waiting on a positive ID,” Evan said, “but it’s not like anyone else is missing.”

  I closed my eyes, burying my head against the pillow as a leaden weight settled over my heart.

  Failed. I had failed them. I hadn’t been fast enough or smart enough or strong enough. My mind took me back to the burning stables, and the horror of a fiery death. If only I had guessed they were there too, then maybe...

  But then I remembered the acrid smell coming from one of the stalls as my captor had dragged me past. The smell of death. They had already been gone, but for how long? And who had done it? Mackenzie? And if so, had he done it alone?

  I didn’t think so. I had trouble picturing a solo sorcerer keeping Evan Blackwood at bay, let alone Evan working with his father. My own father had also tried a scrying spell, probably with Nicolas and my mother.

  “Dad’s okay,” Nicolas added after a long silence.

  “That just goes to show that life isn’t fair,” I said.

  “He’s trying to figure out how to undo the debt,” Nicolas said. “He wants you to move back home.”

  I looked at Evan, whose jaw tightened. “It’s too late.”

  I felt the same way, but, I suspected, for different reasons.

  Nicolas bristled at Evan’s comment. “Too late? Are you planning to keep her away from her family entirely?”

  Evan didn’t answer, but I found myself wondering what, if anything, he had planned to do about my family. Did he think he could just absorb me into his, and cast mine aside? Or had he thought it through at all?

  “He hasn’t kept you away so far,” I said, trying to salvage the situation. “And we still need to work together to find out what ha
ppened to Laura and Regina.”

  The look Nicolas and Evan gave one another could have curdled milk.

  “Or,” I said, “we can all step over one another.”

  “I don’t want you to leave Eagle Rock,” Evan said. “Today was too close.”

  I wanted to argue, but some small, rational part of me helped me keep my silence. So far, he hadn’t ordered me to do anything, and besides, I didn’t think going back to the camp would be useful anyway. Since the camp was closing and many of the people I needed to reach were about to scatter, phone calls were my best option for now.

  “I need to get my phone reactivated,” I said, almost to myself.

  “Already done.” Nicolas glared at his nemesis. “Evan’s paying for it.”

  “I can pay. The sheriff wants to give me my job back anyway.”

  “Fine,” Evan said. “It doesn’t matter. I just want to make sure you’ll be in touch while I’m gone.”

  “Gone?” I sat up, propping myself on my elbows.

  “My father and I are leaving within the hour,” Evan said. “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

  I studied his face, set with resolve, and nodded. It was just as well. Having him so close for so long had me rattled, and I could use the time apart to regain my composure.

  “I’ll just need a ride back to Kaitlin’s,” I said. “Nicolas, are you headed into town?”

  “No, but I’ll take you.”

  Evan cleared his throat, looking between us. “Nicolas, I need a minute alone with Cassie. Can you wait downstairs in the den?”

  Nicolas didn’t look happy about the idea, but he left without argument.

  “Things would be a lot easier if you’d move in with me,” Evan began. When I started to protest, he put up his hands in surrender. “I’m not asking you to right now. I’m just worried about being gone and leaving you alone.”

  “Is there even a point in suggesting that maybe I’m a big girl and can take care of myself?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Don’t get that way.” He sat next to me on the mattress and put his arm around my shoulders, trying to coax me to turn toward him. I didn’t, and he didn’t push.